


All That's Ever Mattered

by edgarallanrose



Series: Season 11 Destiel timestamps/codas [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11x11 coda, Brief mention of past torture, Episode: s11e11 Into the Mystic, M/M, Panic Attacks, Peanut Butter and Jelly, Pining, Sam and Dean Having a Mostly Functioning Brotherly Relationship, The X-Files - Freeform, because why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5872909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgarallanrose/pseuds/edgarallanrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is still frowning from the conversation Sam overheard, two deep lines set between his eyebrows. Sam briefly considered letting it drop, but then he figured at least one of them should stop bottling up what’s eating them inside and get some sleep tonight. And Dean deserved it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That's Ever Mattered

**Author's Note:**

> Coda for 11x11 Into the Mystic, fic takes place a couple of hours after the last scene of the episode. 
> 
> POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS for a brief non-graphic description of past Hell torture and for a character being in the midst of a panic attack for the majority of the fic. I wouldn't say it's particularly graphic, but if that's something that will make you uncomfortable, don't read!

Sam was having a nightmare again.

There wasn’t a linear quality to the dream. It popped back and forth between a highlight reel of all his greatest failures and his time with Lucifer in the cage. A constant, flickering slideshow of his father red-in-the-face screaming, being tortured in hell and going literally blind from the pain, the perpetual expression of disappointment Dean would wear, being shredded apart emotionally and physically until there was nothing left, and then being put back together again.

Sam had reached the part of the nightmare where he was aware he was dreaming, but still couldn’t wake himself up. It was like being held underwater, unable to break the surface. He was pretty sure he stopped breathing because when he finally did wake he was gasping.

He hugged his pillow to his chest, willing his heartrate to go down. Tears pricked his eyes. He held the pillow tighter and took willfully slow breaths. Usually this worked and even if he didn’t fall back asleep he could handle it. Tonight he wasn’t calming down, fueling the panic even more.

He found himself slipping out of bed, socked feet hitting cement floors, and leaving his room with the pillow still clutched to his chest. He didn’t realize where he was going until he was outside of Dean’s room. He lifted his hand to knock and hesitated. He didn’t even know what time it was, and Dean was probably sleeping. He thought about just quietly pushing the door open a little to check. He shook his head, running a hand tiredly over his face and through his hair. He was 32 years old now; more than a little past the point of crawling into bed with your big brother when you get scared. He could handle his own nightmares.

But he couldn’t go back to bed.

He stumbled around the bunker, no clear destination in mind, but he found himself heading to the kitchen. He rounded the corner, surprised to find the light already on. He stopped in his tracks when he heard Dean speaking gruffly.

“ – already told you everything I can think of, Cas.”

Oh, he was on the phone. Sam didn’t want to listen, but he didn’t want to interrupt either. And Dean’s voice, despite not speaking to him, was already starting to calm him down. So he stood and waited.

“I know it’s not enough but I don’t know – Okay. Alright, if I get wind of anything you’ll be the first person who hears it. Yeah. Listen, Cas –“

His voice got really quiet, pleading.

“Cas, um, I know you’ve got your hands full with this darkness stuff but I was just…look, are you gonna be around anytime soon?”

There was such longing in his voice Sam’s own chest hurt just to hear it.

“I just wish I could see you and - yeah. Um, yeah, no I get it. It’s fine, Cas honest, I just…ya know, forget it. Yeah. Sure. Talk to you soon. You too. Bye.”

Sam heard some clunking around the kitchen, drawers opening and closing, and decided to go in.

Dean was hunched over the counter, staring at a slice of bread like it had personally done him wrong. He jerked up when Sam cleared his throat.

“Hey, what’re you doing up?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” Sam rasped. He coughed again. His voice was still gravelly from being so upset. Dean gave him a sideways glance, but didn’t mention it.

“Never fell asleep,” he said. “Too many, uh, things on my mind. I was just gonna make a PB and J, you want one?”

“Sure.”

Sam sat down at one of the stools around the big island counter in the center of the room.

“Do I want to ask what the pillow’s about?” Dean said after a few moments.

Sam looked down, his arms still wrapped tightly around his pillow.

“Uh…woke up with it. Didn’t realize I was still holding it. I’m tired.”

“That’s real cute, Sammy.”

“Shut up.”

Dean got two more slices of bread out and placed them on a plate before going to get the peanut butter from the pantry. Dean is still frowning from the conversation Sam overheard, two deep lines set between his eyebrows. Sam briefly considered letting it drop, but then he figured at least one of them should stop bottling up what’s eating them inside and get some sleep tonight. And Dean deserved it.

“So…was that Cas you were talking to?”

Dean was taking the lid off the peanut butter and froze mid-twist before replying,

“Yeah, you heard that?”

“Not really. Just figured it was him then heard his name. Didn’t hear what you were talking about though,” Sam lied.

Dean visibly relaxed.

“He called, yeah. Just more nothing on the darkness. Was trying to make some connections but, ya know, we’ve got zip over here so…” he trailed off and shrugged. He got the jelly out of the fridge and added it to two halves of the bread.

“He okay?” Sam asked.

Dean didn’t answer right away, opting to chew the inside of his cheek.

“Says he is.”

“You think differently?”

“Something ain’t right, Sam.”

Dean slid the plate with the sandwich over to Sam. He cut it diagonally into triangles, the way Sam always asked for it when they were little. Sam nearly started to cry again at the sight of it, but coughed instead, getting a hold of himself. _Cas, right, keep him talking about Cas._

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know he just -” Dean sighed, looking down at his own untouched sandwich, “hasn’t been himself. Won’t answer any of my texts or calls.”

“That’s not so unusual,” Sam reasoned, talking around a mouth full of peanut butter. “Especially when he’s, ya know, on a mission.”

“Yeah, but he…um…”

The tips of Dean’s ears went red and he stared anywhere but Sam’s direction. Sam paused chewing and looked at him.

“What is it Dean?”

“I pray to him, Sam,” he admitted, the blush rising to his cheeks. Sam would laugh and tease him if he wasn’t still so tired and drained. “I don’t even mean to most of the time, it’s like some weird habit. Like, whenever we’re having trouble on a hunt or it’s a bad day, whatever, I start praying to him. And ever since we got Cas that damn smart phone, shit you not, he’s started _texting_ me replies to prayers. Usually with a long string of emojis.”

Sam can’t help it, he snorted out a laugh.

“I know, I know. He’s ridiculous.” Dean shook his head, but smiled fondly all the same. The smile faded after a second and Dean continued. “Anyway, the only reason I’m telling you this is because he stopped recently. And I’ve been praying to him a lot, like _a lot_ a lot, especially when we couldn’t get a hold of him after the cage.”

Sam froze at the mention of Hell, but Dean doesn’t dwell on it. Sam forced himself to relax and keep listening.

“I thought that was why he was calling. I was praying when I couldn’t fall asleep about…well, that doesn’t matter, but when I picked up the phone he didn’t mention it. Like he never even heard me in the first place.”

“Well, his mind might be a little preoccupied with all the darkness stuff, might be a little more tuned into angel radio than he usually is.” Sam was trying to be reasonable to quiet Dean’s mind a little, but it did strike him as odd. His doubt must come across because Dean huffed out a derisive laugh.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Dean finally picked up his sandwich to take a bite and mumbled almost too quietly to hear, “Or maybe he just doesn’t care anymore.”

“Don’t be stupid Dean,” Sam admonished.

Dean didn’t say anything, choosing to brood over his PB and J instead. Sam lost his patience then, rolling his eyes.

“I overheard you talking to Mildred,” Sam said, “over at Oak Park.”

Dean shot him a wary glance.

“What does that have to do anything?”

“She was talking about you pining for somebody.” Dean’s shoulders tensed up, but Sam soldiered on. “She had been talking to me the day before, asking if you were single. And even after I said you were she said that she could tell that there was somebody your heart belonged to already.”

Dean was bristling.

“And what did you say?”

“I told her that I thought so too, but even you might not know it yet.”

Sam took a breath, having finally spoken something he’d been edging around with Dean for who knows how many years. He had always assumed something was going on and Dean just wasn’t ready to tell him. However, as the years went by Sam realized that maybe he was the only one noticing how his brother and the angel felt.

“So, was that what the whole ‘follow your heart’ speech was about?” Dean muttered, mostly to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Dean shook his head.

“Well am I right, or am I right?” Sam demanded.

“Sam, I don’t want to-“

“ _Dean_ it has been _years._ ”

He finally looked Sam in the eye and Sam realized Dean was on the brink of tears. He started to feel guilty for bringing this up at all, for upsetting Dean when he was just trying to reassure him, but then Dean took a deep breath, nodded, and put his head in his hands.

“I don’t know what to do, Sammy,” he said. “I know there’s something wrong with Cas, I can’t tell if it’s my fault, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well right now you don’t need to do anything,” Sam said, glancing at the clock on the microwave, “it’s four in the damn morning. You should try and get some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep like this,” Dean said miserably. “Besides, you should talk anyway, Pillow Man. You’re still getting nightmares, aren’t you?”

Sam ignored the accusation.

“Dean, The Pillowman is not actually about a man with a pillow. Not even close.”

“Whatever. You should at least go to bed, don’t worry about me.”

“No, I’m wired too.” Sam rubbed his eyes, thinking. “I’ve still got Netflix hooked up to my TV, wanna watch something till we pass out?”

“Sounds good.”

\---

Dean didn’t make it through ten minutes of X-Files before he conked out, still sitting straight up propped against some pillows on Sam’s bed, arms crossed over his chest and head lolling onto his shoulder.

Sam was sunk down deep in his blankets, still watching with one eye open as the episode neared its end.

Mulder was in a hospital bed, with Scully, Skinner and the Lone Gunman there to visit him.

“No, you were there with the Nazi’s,” Mulder was insisting.

“Mulder, will you settle down? It’s an order.” Scully said.

“Not that he takes orders,” Skinner said.

“You saved the world, Scully,” Mulder said.

“Yeah…you’re right. I did.” Scully smiled down at him, appeasing.

“What kind of drugs is he on?”

“I want some.”

 _And there are two people_ , Sam thought to himself, _that despite being a medical doctor and an FBI profiler, can’t figure out they’re in love._

“Hey, Scully.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Scully, believing him to be high on pain meds, scoffs and leaves with a muttered “Oh, brother.”

 _He says it to her damn face and she still doesn’t get it,_ Sam thought, exiting out of Netflix and powering off the TV. _Sounds like two other idiots I know._

Sam looked over at his sleeping bother and considered waking him so he can sleep in his own bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Also, somewhat selfishly, he didn’t want to try and go to sleep on his own again. Any other night, maybe, but tonight both he and Dean were emotionally vulnerable and physically exhausted. They needed to be together.

So, Sam rolled over on his side, tucked his pillow under his arm and his head. His breathing synced with the steady rhythm of Dean’s slow snores.

Sam fell into a deep, blessedly dreamless sleep.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't think this is actually confirmed by the show, but I've always gotten the impression that if a prayer is directed at a specific angel only that angel will hear it. Then I just thought that replying to prayers via text sounded distinctly like something Cas would do, and him suddenly stopping might make Dean suspicious. Because, as Lucifer, he was no longer receiving Dean's prayers. 
> 
> Also I hadn't intended to write something from Sam's POV, and I did not think this fic was going to make it to 1k but WHOOPS here have 2k of a Sam and Dean chat. I've just really been feeling Sam lately, and I wanted to include him while still having it be partially about Destiel so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ this is what I ended up with and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Stay tuned, more codas to come as the episodes air!
> 
> You can find me on the tumblrverse as [edgarallanrose](http://edgarallanrose.tumblr.com/)


End file.
